


lay and languish in pleasant agony

by gabriphales



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Dry Orgasm, M/M, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:41:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26610826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabriphales/pseuds/gabriphales
Summary: aziraphale tries to entertain crowley's interest in pursuing a submissive role - however, it doesn't take long for crowley to realize his angel is in the mood for something else
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 41





	lay and languish in pleasant agony

**Author's Note:**

> i finished this at 2 am im in hell woo

crowley's on his knees before him, crowley's sunk down to ground, yet aziraphale still feels impossibly cornered in his high ground position - stationed with legs spread, trousers divested, in his cozy chair. the air between them is sweet, it stings of salt when he tries to inhale. crowley hasn't stopped looking at him, not once since he fell to the ground.

his fingers trace up wooden floorboards, carving a heated path along aziraphale's legs as he moves up to his thighs. rubbing gently, he presses over the bulge in aziraphale's panties, thumbing at the wet patch where precum is already slicking cloth.

"gorgeous, angel." he murmurs, heavy in his dry, parched sounding throat. _parched for him,_ aziraphale thinks to himself. he's forced to still on a gulp, momentarily overwhelmed.

"how do you want me?" crowley asks, "how can i be of service?"

aziraphale stifles a cringe at the choice of words - if this is how crowley would prefer any mode of sexuality between them, then it's his duty to fulfill that. nothing wrong with playing the leading role, after all.

"i-i," he stammers, finding himself rather unable to keep composed. "i suppose you may - might, er, your mouth, please."

he knows he's not supposed to ask, not supposed to _plead,_ but it all feels so terribly wrong _demanding_ something of crowley. he doesn't want to force, to ascribe purpose without making sure crowley desires whatever he's meant to do. and this shouldn't be so troublesome, his head ought to be positively empty at this point. he just has to shake the unpleasantries out, dust off his parlor tricks, and make a grand, domineering show of himself.

that's what crowley wants, anyways.

(is that how crowley _sees him?_ )

"as you wish, sir." crowley says, the tinge of submissive flair in his voice threatening a nauseous shiver from aziraphale. his head lowers, sinking between aziraphale's thighs. there's the faint lap of a tongue, wet and warm against his cockhead. it has aziraphale curving in his seat, back arching, hips jerking forwards in a manner that felt all too desperate - but crowley only reads it as commanding more.

"crowley," aziraphale pants softly, too high for the part he's meant to play. embarrassment washes over him in sickly waves, but crowley's mouth is a fast comfort, closing in over the twitching bulge, and sucking gently.

"want your cock," crowley sounds desperate, like a begging puppy. it cracks something white hot in aziraphale's heart, and he can't help himself before cupping crowley's temple, and promising, "i'm all yours, love."

"yeah?" crowley jerks at the head of his cock, finally letting it spring free from tight, silky fabric. "all mine? and what do you want me to do with you, angel?"

aziraphale gasps - that's different, he has to say. that's quite a bit stronger than the needy persuasion from before. he spreads his thighs wider, eyes squeezing shut. too mortified with himself to keep them open. 

"you c-could - _oh!_ " aziraphale keens, shrill as a newborn pup, shaking as crowley sucks him down. his mouth is hot, hot and wet and _tight,_ but aziraphale, quite noticeably, doesn't feel in control. he wouldn't dare buck his hips, wouldn't _dream_ of fucking into that lovely warmth - not like this. crowley's the one left to call the shots now.

"yes - yes, please, crowley, i - _nono, too fast, don't wanna_ -"

he's dragged taut, pulled across a line with no way to back down from his high. crowley doesn't let a single drop go to waste, licking up the sides of aziraphale's cock when he's done, savoring every inch of excess.

"'m sorry, just sensitive, i know it was too - too _soon_ \- please!" aziraphale whimpers loudly, squirming his hips as crowley takes him in once more, suctioning with fierce intent. it has his stomach clenching, fluttering as dizzy as his weightless head. everything's so light, so heavy at the same time. he can't move a muscle, a single quirk of a limb, unless it's to wrench further into crowley's demanding attentions. his tongue rubs through the slit, pistoning back and forth, and it's so much, so hard to endure, yet impossible to deny himself the pleasure now that he's got it.

"no - " aziraphale strains to catch his breath through the next orgasm, writhing wildly, his whole body jittering until it comes to pass. "no more, i can't."

crowley backs away. the disappointment in aziraphale's eyes is immeasurable. it's just as hard to _ask_ as it had been to order. even now, aziraphale struggles with getting his words right.

"well," he shuffles nervously, somehow shy. "perhaps a _little_ more wouldn't hurt."

crowley's mouth returns eagerly, only to be shushed away by a sharp whining, and murmurs of _'too sensitive for that,'_ from aziraphale. he makes use of his hands instead, letting satin-sweet palms stroke up the length of aziraphale, encompassing him entirely. aziraphale stutters for him, ruts his hips from side to side, even wells tears at his eyes, dripping wet down rosy cheeks - but he doesn't say no. he encourages crowley, head tossed back, mouth agape on breathless, _heavenly_ moans. he sounds helpless. he looks it moreso.

that's just how he's meant to be.

"one more time, little one." crowley traces around the soft rim of his pulsing, swollen cockhead. the poor thing, gone so red it looks positively painful. of course, anything sore can be worked out with a little _massage._ crowley caresses at him, squeezing gently, firmly, enough for aziraphale to really feel it. the labor earns him a plaintive sound from aziraphale, one fit for the likes of fine opera, broadway scripts, truly any medium that might capture it for its true value.

" _crowley,_ " aziraphale whimpers, pitious and pretty as a fresh fawn. wide-eyed as one too. "it _hurts,_ i - oh, you're too _rough."_

crowley's thumb only presses harder into tender flesh, rubbing exactly where it has aziraphale wiggling the most. "don't know, angel. seems like you're enjoying it to me."

aziraphale yelps when crowley rolls through his slit, and his cock twitches, _throbs_ with the climax that follows, but nothing spills forth. he's cumming dry, sobbing as crowley soothes him through his wracking shudders. head curled against crowley's chest, with a hand in his curls to sample how damp they've gotten, worked up into an absolute thrill - he's _delighted._

exhausted, smoothed out, and delighted.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr is @enricks


End file.
